From Russia With Love
by tokyolove
Summary: The beginning of the Hawk and the Spider. Oneshot. Clintasha.


Hi everyone! While trying to figure out where my main story, Budapest, is going, I got a request to write a snow themed Clintasha piece on Tumblr. Here it is. I'm just finishing this semester and am off to New York in a couple of days so updates to Budapest may be a little slower than they should be, but there will definitely be one up before Christmas. For now, enjoy this little piece of nonsense.

Disclaimer: I don't own Clint or Natasha.

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The air was cold and crisp. It was sharp and felt like knives cutting through soft flesh when it hit the body of whoever was unfortunate enough to be outside. Russia in winter wasn't for the faint hearted, a tough exterior with resistance to the elements was definitely needed.

For Natalia Romanova, Russia in winter was just another day. She was used to being outside in the subzero temperatures, trekking for miles through banks of snow that were barely under two feet deep. The icy hands of Jack Frost that so many people shied away from, hiding in their warm log cottages and taking refuge in the hot and steamy Banyas to keep out of the cold, gripped hold of the young girl. She lifted her feet, stepped over a frozen log and found herself stood in front of a gate.

It was black wrought iron and she double-checked the holsters hidden under her long fur-lined trench coat, making sure her two guns were loaded. She knew that they were, she was just going through the motions of a routine that had long been imprinted into her brain.

The house beyond the gate stood tall. It was a made from a weathered wood that had turned silver in the harsh previous winters. It was square in shape, the size as standard from when communism had taken over. From the outside it looked abandoned, the windows broken and boarded up in places, but Natalia knew different.

Pushing the gate open, she winced a little as it creaked but luckily no one inside the house that sat a few feet away heard it. Going in through the front door was always a risky way to do things but for this mission it was the easiest way in. She didn't much fancy crawling her way over the houses' broken roof tiles in the vain hope that she could squeeze herself down the tiny air vent that sat on top. She was a small girl, but not that small.

The front door opened easily after a quick pick of the lock. Luckily it was silent as it opened inwards, allowing Natalia access to the long and narrow hallway that made up the entranceway of the family home. There was a noise coming from the kitchen and she recognised the sound of her mark's voice. His name was Anton Dolzhikov and he was a minister in the new Russian government. Her job was to take him out. He had angered the Red Room and the penalty for that was death by the Black Widow.

She crept towards the kitchen door, her footsteps silent and undetectable, before she made her move. Natalia burst into the room, shooting Dolzhikov in the head. He dropped to the floor in a heap, his thick grey hair soaked with blood that was quickly pouring from the bullet wound. The woman who had been stood next to him screamed. Natalia recognised her as Anya Dolzhikova, the dead man's wife. She was of medium stature and had long brown hair, tied up in a careful bun. Her yellow dress sparked a memory in Natalia's mind, one of a woman she had known a very long time ago. Angry now, the Black Widow didn't hesitate to shoot her too, her body dropping like a stone immediately. Natalia didn't like remembering, not when her mind was so screwed up she could never remember it clearly. The woman in her mind had been important, she knew that much. But how important, she didn't know.

She cursed when the creaking of a floorboard behind her alerted her to someone else in the house. There wasn't supposed to be anyone else here.

She spun around and came face to face to an arrow. It was inches from her forehead.

"Move and your brains get splattered everywhere. Weapons down. Now!"

The man holding the bow and arrow was blonde. He was of average height, yet taller than her, and from what she could see he was well muscled. Muscles meant strength and right now Natalia was at a disadvantage. She knew that too. His uniform was clearly bulletproof, made from some sort of super strong Kevlar, and was black and purple in colour. There was an insignia on the right side of his chest – he was from Shield. He was the enemy.

She knew this man. His name was Hawkeye and he was infamous within the walls of the Red Room.

Natalia complied, her gun clattering on the floor.

"And the other one."

She slowly took the other one from her left leg holster and threw it down too.

"Kick them over to me."

She did as he asked without question. Normally she would be fighting back, but with the arrow so close to her head, she knew it would be stupid to try and get away. At least if she did as he asked she could prolong her life just that little bit longer in an attempt to get away alive.

"I've heard of you Hawkeye." Her thick Russian accent was a strange contrast to his deep American one. His was deep because he was putting it on to scare her, she couldn't be fooled that easily. His brow furrowed.

"Shut up and get on the floor!" He saw her hesitate and inched forward until his arrow was tickling her porcelain skin. "Do it!"

She dropped slowly; crouching in the blood she had just spilled all over the now soaked floor. Hawkeye slowly lowered the bow and lifted a hand to his ear, pressing on what she assumed was a communicator earpiece, before murmuring some words to whoever was on the other end. His piercing blue eyes remained locked on her, daring her to make a move. She didn't.

He then reached into a pocket on his utility belt and whipped out a pair of black handcuffs. He had them slapped on her wrists before she could even blink and his tight grip on her forearm had her hauled to her feet in an instant.

"You're coming with me. Cooperate and you stay alive."

"What do Shield want with me?"

He stopped pulling the Russian from the room and smirked at her. She didn't like that.

"They want you dead, but I'm making a different call." He then pulled her out of the back door of the kitchen, causing her to roughly fall down the wooden steps and land face first in the snow. Hawkeye hauled Natalia to her feet.

"Better get your balance Widow, we've got a way to walk. The safe house is quite a way from here."

She glared at him, green eyes boring through his skull.

"It would be easier to stay up if you un-cuffed me."

He shook his head, causing her glare to darken.

"Can't do that, you would kill me and run off, don't deny it."

She had to admit that he was right so she allowed herself to be tugged along the snow.

By the time they reached the safe house she was freezing. Her coat did little to shelter her from prolonged exposure to the extreme Russian weather. She tried not to shiver, not wanting to appear weak in front of him, but by the time he dragged her up the steps and into the little log cabin, she was an icy mess who's teeth were one minute away from chattering.

Once the door was closed and they were alone, Natalia was certain he would shoot her. Instead she was surprised when he unlocked her handcuffs and took her ungloved hands in his. His hands were rough and calloused; most likely from using his bow all of the time. They were warm against hers and it was only then that she realised just how cold she actually was.

"God Natalia, you're freezing. Why didn't you say anything?" His once harsh tone of voice had softened. It was almost as if he cared and she couldn't help but scoff.

Natalia just shrugged. What would have been the point in saying anything? She was the enemy.

"I may have been sent to kill you but now that I've decided not to I don't want you dying of pneumonia."

She scoffed.

"I'm Russian, we don't get pneumonia. I'm fine."

He rolled his eyes in return.

"Well, extraction is within the hour, so we just have to sit tight. You are covered in some dead guy's blood so go take a warm shower. It's just down the hall. I'll be waiting outside with fresh clothes. I'm Clint Barton by the way. My parents weren't cruel enough to name me Hawkeye." He tried to make her smile. It didn't work.

She knew his suggestion had ulterior motives. He wanted her out of her cat suit, out of any KGB weaponry that may be hidden inside. He wanted her to be as vulnerable as possible by dressing her in standard Shield gym wear he had found in a drawer. But honestly, she was glad for the hot shower. It cleaned her up so she looked human again.

Clint was floored by how tiny and defenseless she looked. Without all of the armour and guns that her suit held to her body, she was just a regular girl who couldn't be any older than twenty. The sweatpants and hoodie were too big for her small frame and her long red hair hung in damp curls around her pale face. She didn't look macabre anymore now that the blood was gone.

He motioned for her to come over to him and she did, albeit cautiously. He handed her some food he had found and she ate it gratefully. She hadn't eaten since the day before; the Red Room didn't really take care of their agents like that.

"The helicopter can't get close enough to the cabin, so we have to go and meet it."

He tossed a coat at her and she quickly wrapped herself in it. He begrudgingly gave her boots back, not having any spare ones that she could wear. He had checked them for weapons while she was in the shower but he hadn't had time to be thorough. If she pulled a knife out of somewhere then it was his fault. Handing her a pair of gloves, he took her hand and led her out of the door.

A twisting path through some bare trees and a lot of snow brought them out to a clearing where a helicopter had landed. She was cold again, but not as much as before. Her Black Widow façade had returned now that she was in the presence of other Shield agents and she wasn't showing any weakness.

She was grabbed by a couple of agents who quickly slapped handcuffs back on her and tossed her into the holding area of the helicopter. Clint threw her an apologetic look and she understood. She was the enemy and no one could know of his kindness to her in the snow until much later. Until she could be trusted.

Natalia Romanova already knew that she trusted Clint Barton.

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Reviews are lovely! Hint hint...


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